


Bofur wants the D

by Thorinsmut



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: I apologize to the ghost of JRR Tolkien, M/M, Non-Explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the somewhat baffling prompt:<br/><i>"Bombur knows that Bilbo knows that Bofur wants the D. Bombur will assist Bilbo in the acquisition of the D of Bofur. Bifur thinks the whole thing’s hilarious."</i></p><p>I think I managed to incorporate all the elements. Whether or not Bombur’s help is <i>helpful</i> is another matter…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bofur wants the D

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at http://thorinsmut.tumblr.com/post/41816304457/bofur-wants-the-d

“I’m getting more than bored with my own hand…” Bofur griped to his brother and cousin, he’d had maybe a bit too much of Beorn’s deceptively sweet mead and was growing maudlin. They had brought him outside for some air… and so he wouldn’t bother anybody else.

“...switch hands?” Bombur suggested.

“Do you think I haven’t? I’m bored with both of them! In Ered Luin… In Ered Luin I could have a new lover… every night of the week…” Bofur asserted grandly, which Bombur knew for a fact to be a bold-faced lie, he rolled his eyes at Bifur while his droopy-mustached brother continued obliviously.

“I just want…” Bofur sighed, making vague gestures in the air, “I just _need_ …”

Bombur passed his brother a plate of roasted root vegetables, hoping to get him to eat something, maybe take the edge off his drunkenness… Bifur handed Bofur a mug, which the behatted Dwarf took a healthy swig from.

“What is this?” the miner gasped, sputtering, “ _Water?_.. and it’s got…” Bofur fished around in the mug with his fingers and pulled out a sprig of green, “It’s got _parsley_ in it!” he flicked the parsley away disgustedly, flopping backward onto the ground.

“ _I just want to fuck somebody!”_ he wailed, pulling his hat down over his eyes. Bombur managed to save the plate of vegetables and was testing them to make sure they were still good when he heard Bifur chuckle low. The cook followed his cousin’s gaze to see Bilbo, the little Hobbit frozen wide-eyed like a frightened deer.

With two pair of eyes on him, the Hobbit jumped and scurried back into the house. Bombur slowly ate the rest of the roasted vegetables, the beginning of a plan stirring in his brain.

 

The third time Bombur tripped him, sending him bumping into Bofur, which for some reason set Bifur into gales of laughter, Bilbo decided that he was going to have to have a word with the cook.

Bombur did not seem to want to be cornered, but Bilbo managed it eventually, isolating them away from the rest of the Company.

“What is this about?” He demanded, and the cook, shy for all his size, blushed red behind his impressive beard.

“…you _heard_ last night… and you’d said that Hobbits often have lots of lovers… and I thought the two of you might…” Bombur stuttered to a halt, his hands fidgeting together in their fingerless gloves.

“…oh…Oh!” Bilbo was surprised, “I… I’m sure he was just having a drunken… _moment_ … and… and… Besides, even if Hobbits _do_ have lots of lovers that doesn’t mean that I would particularly want _him_ to…” and it was Bilbo’s turn to blush as his mind helpfully supplied him with a fantasy of what those long swooping mustaches might feel like against his inner thighs…

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want me anyway.” the Hobbit ended in an embarrassed squeak. “I mean… Gloin was saying that Dwarves only take one love, in their lives?”

“For most of us, yes.” Bombur agreed, “Bifur and Gloin and I, we have our wives… but there are some Dwarves who don’t… Bofur’s one of them.” The cook slumped, “...sorry, he’s just… I thought you could cheer him up?”

“That’s sweet of you…” Bilbo said, “but I’m sure he wouldn’t want _me_ , I don’t make a very good Dwarf.” he was surprised at the little jolt of regret he felt at that.

“...he’s not picky.” Bombur confided, squeezing Bilbo's shoulder.

“Really?” Bilbo cursed himself the moment the word was out, it had sounded far more eager than it should… and Bombur grinned, patting his big round stomach.

“...I’ll set you up, don’t worry.” He smiled, and pushed past the slightly protesting Hobbit…

“Just don’t trip me any more, please?” Bilbo begged.

 

If he were still in the Shire, Bilbo would have gone the straightforward route and just _asked,_ with maybe a flower or two if he wanted to be romantic about it.

Bombur had other plans. Bilbo had spent two days trying them, and since he really didn’t know any of the courtship traditions of Dwarves it was probably best to take the advice of a Dwarf.

He shared food with Bofur, lots of shared food, Bilbo wondered if it was a Dwarf thing or just a Bombur thing, but the rotund cook had him bring all sorts of savory tidbits to his brother to share. He was also told to spent time just sitting near Bofur, which meant he got to hear lots of funny stories and jokes, but didn’t seem to advance anything.

It didn’t help that Bifur kept laughing at him every time he caught him close to Bofur.

The more time he spent trying Bombur’s methods, the more time he spent thinking about what it might be _like_ to be with Bofur… and the more certain he became that he would _very much_ like to have the Dwarf for his lover.

Near the end of the second day he confronted Bombur again.

“Nothing’s working!” he accused. “Are you sure we’re doing this the right way?”

Bombur fidgeted in his fingerless gloves again, “...it worked for me!” he protested, “It only took five years before my wife proposed!”

“Oh, for the love of…” Bilbo smacked himself in the forehead.

“I _know_ it’s scandalously fast.” Bombur defended himself, “But we’re really and truly in love!”

“Thank you for your help, Bombur.” Bilbo said, gently, “But I think I’m going to do this the Hobbit way.”

 

He spent some time picking out flowers from the gardens around Beorn’s house, a small bundle of coriander and red poppy, nice and straightforward… but he had second thoughts as he was approaching Bofur, who was lounging out among the trees having a quiet evening smoke. Suppose Dwarves had a different meanings to flowers, or no meaning at all?

He quickly tossed the flowers into a bush and sat himself down beside the miner.

“Bofur.” he said, companionably.

“Bilbo.” Bofur answered, favoring him with a fond smile.

“So… would you like to fuck?” Bilbo asked, casually.

Bofur took a long drag on his pipe and breathed out a big cloud of smoke, “Aye.” He said, smile growing even bigger, eyes sparkling.

“Oh good.” Bilbo laughed a little, letting go of the nervousness, “Your room or mine?”

Bofur put his pipe down, pressing a hand into the center of Bilbo’s chest, pushing him flat to the grass as he climbed on top of the smaller man.

“Anything wrong with right here?”

And even if Bilbo had been capable of thinking _anything_ at that moment, he couldn’t have said because his mouth was far too busy being kissed.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: I used this wikipedia list for flower language meaning, if you’re wondering what the flower bundle meant. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Language_of_flowers

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Ladle and some Stew](https://archiveofourown.org/works/789649) by [Thorinsmut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut)




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